Falling Asleep
by thecouchcarrot
Summary: Because DAMN IT, I can't stop myself. An alternate ending to "Staying Awake." Dean/Cas. Dean's finally got it figured out - but it may be too late. There's only so much an angel can take. Now Complete. CH. 5: The worst hangover Dean's had in a long time.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:_ Oh. My. GOD. I - I really don't know what's wrong with me. I've never been such a horrible liar before in my life. I said that Waking Up was a one-shot, and it was done; then I said that I was posting the absolute end of the story with the last chapter of Staying Awake. And now... now I'm actually UNDOING the end of Staying Awake to continue it. _

_Actually, I blame this solely on 67impala, who reviewed Staying Awake and said that, while the ending was sweet, it lacked the usual punch my endings have, and it felt hurried. Quite honestly, I _was _hurrying to finish this particular story, because I have so many other things that I should be spending my time on. Even as I was writing the chapter, something about it didn't sit quite right with me. I ignored it, because I couldn't figure out what it was, and I thought, "My readers have been asking for a happy ending, and BY GOD I'm going to give it to them, and I'm gonna give it to them NOW!" _

_However, when I got that review from 67impala, the author in me revolted and demanded I put things aright. I didn't want to ret-con Staying Awake, so, we have this little story. It starts with the beginning of the last chapter of Staying Awake, and then things start to change. As before, I _do_ promise a happy ending, just a little more delayed than expected. I doubt more than 3 people are gonna read this, since it's essentially a threequel of an angsty one-shot, but it's just something I have to do. _

_If you are one of the 3 people reading this, please review. It will make me feel better. _Please?

* * *

Dean walked warily through the empty corridors of the old house, shining his flashlight down the hallway. "Cas?" he called.

He couldn't find Cas.

Up ahead, he saw a doorway leading into a black pit of a room. He approached it slowly, cautiously, all his hunting instincts screaming that something was waiting for him in the dark.

But he had to find Cas.

"Looking for something?"

Dean spun around.

Sam stood there, smirking coldly, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Oh, Dean. When will you learn?" And with that, he cast his hand out and slammed Dean into the wall.

"You're not Sam," Dean grunted, feeling the sweat gather on his brow as he struggled to move.

The devil wearing Sam's skin arched an eyebrow. "So you're not a complete moron. There may be hope for you yet." Then his jaw tightened determinedly, and slowly he clenched his hand into a fist. "Of course, not when I'm done with you."

Dean cried out in pain as his insides tried to become his outsides. Tangy, coppery blood bubbled up his throat and dribbled out of his mouth.

Lucifer clicked his tongue and shook his head ruefully. "I hate doing this to you, Dean. This hurts me more than it hurts you."

"I – highly – doubt that," Dean managed grind out.

He shrugged. "Fair enough." And he squeezed harder.

Dean screamed.

"You ready to play ball yet?" Lucifer asked. He was wearing Sam's most casual expression, like he really couldn't give a damn either way.

Dean sucked in as much air as he could for a minute, and then finally managed to groan, "Fffffuck! Yyyyy_you_!"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, Cas appeared in front of him, collapsing on the ground and curling up in the fetal position.

"Cas!" Dean cried. "Cas!"

Lucifer kicked Cas, and he let out a sharp yelp of pain.

"Sam," Dean sobbed, "you gotta stop… you gotta stop him…"

Lucifer smiled. "Sam's gone, Dean. For good. It's time you came to terms with that." He stepped close to Dean and grabbed him by the chin, tipping his head downwards and forcing him to meet his eyes. "Think of me as… your therapist."

Dean spat blood in his face.

Lucifer didn't even flinch. His smile just shaped itself into a furious grimace. "You shouldn't have done that." He pulled his fist back –

And another hand caught it mid-air.

"Dean," Cas barked, "this is a dream!"

Dean's head spun. How had he… He looked and saw that Cas was indeed still moaning on the floor. And yet, there was another Cas, standing here and restraining _Satan_.

Cas's words started to make sense.

Lucifer's hand slowly came unclenched. "Dream or not, I can still destroy you, Dean," he growled. "I'm a seed in your psyche, and you can't uproot me."

"He's not real, Dean." Cas twisted Lucifer's arm behind him, forcing him to double over. "Now take us to the Roadhouse."

Dean tried to accept that he was dreaming, but some part of him still clung to this dank hallway. He was still pinned to the wall, immobile, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Then Cas reached out with two fingers, and it all fell into place.

The Roadhouse.

It was just him and Cas, alone. No Sam, no Lucifer, no Ash or Ellen or Jo.

Cas picked up a pool ball off a nearby table and studied it idly. "You have an impressive attention to detail."

"Thanks." Dean stood awkwardly, uncertain of what to say. "For the other thing, too. And… I'm really sorry. About… everything."

Cas nodded and replaced the pool ball.

"So… it's been awhile," Dean tried.

Cas turned a steady unblinking gaze on him. "You're wondering why I returned."

Dean chuckled nervously. Damn. He'd forgotten how blunt Cas could be. He'd also forgotten how electric the air got when he was around, a constant static in the atmosphere that made his skin buzz.

Cas sighed, sounding oddly human. "I apologize. I was watching your dream, and… I couldn't continue to watch that happen." He turned away from Dean slightly and ran his hand along the green felt of the pool table.

"Hey, don't apologize," Dean assured him. "I'm glad that you – see, I've been trying to get a hold of you, but since you guys aren't using the good old Bible-Thumper Hotline anymore…" He stuffed his hands into his pockets and ducked his head, suddenly self-conscious. "Well, there's a reason I was looking for you in my sleep, Cas."

Cas didn't respond at all, just pressed his fingertips harder into the green felt.

Then Dean's hand was over his, and their bodies mere inches apart. Dean trailed his fingers along Cas's abdomen, interested by the way his muscles felt under the thin fabric. The self-consciousness of a moment before had given way to a deep-seated desire to be closer to Cas, to touch and feel and explore him. "There's a lot I should tell you…" he murmured.

Cas flinched slightly, and pulled his hand out from under Dean's. He swayed backwards just a little, as if he meant to distance himself but wasn't quite able to.

Shit.

"I shouldn't have come here," Cas muttered.

"I'm not at Lisa's," Dean blurted, grabbing Cas's arm like he could physically keep him from leaving. "I – I'm not staying at Lisa's anymore."

Cas's eyes rose to his, something like pain and wariness in them. He said nothing.

He didn't have to.

"Cas," Dean whispered, his heart beating in his throat. His fingers clenched tighter around Cas's arm. "Cas. Don't you want to know where I am?"

Cas twisted his arm out of Dean's grasp, misery laid bare on his face.

"No."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning to write this, and I'm probably going to be late for class because of you guys. But lemme just say: Thank you for reviewing! I promise I'll make it all better, just... not as quickly as you might like. I'm hoping this won't take too long, but this isn't the end, so hang on, guys. It's going to be an _interesting _ride. _

_Anyways, thank you thank you thank you for reviewing, and here's the next chapter, in which things will hopefully become a bit clearer. _

* * *

Dean sat on the edge of an autumn lake, staring pensively out at the water. It was peaceful, silent. Serene.

He was tense as hell.

"C'mon," he muttered. "I know you're watching."

It was more than a little crazy, what Dean was doing. But then, no one had ever accused him of being of particularly sound mind.

In a fit of impatience he stood up from his deck chair. "Cas!" he bellowed at the sepia-brown sky. "Fucking _talk _to me!"

No one answered.

…..

Dean sat back on a velvet sofa as two smokin' hot ladies danced at him. One was dressed like an angel, the other like a devil, and if heaven or hell had looked half as good when Dean had been there, he wouldn't have been in such a freakin' hurry to get back down to earth. He plastered on an enthusiastic grin and tried to enjoy himself.

He couldn't stop jiggling his leg.

_C'mon, Cas, c'mon. How long are you gonna sit and take this? _

The girls began brushing up against him, sneaky teasing touches and feathery light caresses. And it was good, it was fun, it was turning him on.

Sort of.

He was playing chicken with a dude who wasn't technically supposed to have emotions. No wonder he was losing.

…..

Cas yawned as he awoke, one curled arm around Dean's midriff and his face nestled into the back of Dean's neck. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

Dean wanted to extricate himself, he really did, but he was so damn tired of fighting it.

Cas seemed to notice Dean's pointed silence. "There's something bothering you," he observed.

"You're not real," Dean muttered. "Angels don't even sleep."

He brought his hand up to Dean's face, and trailed his fingers along Dean's jaw. "So?"

"So." Dean closed his eyes, wishing he had the strength to get up and leave. "So Cas is Zeppelin, and you're just a tribute band."

The figment of his imagination propped his chin on Dean's shoulder. "I don't understand your reference, but I take it that you're dissatisfied."

"Just leave me alone," he mumbled.

They laid in silence for a few moments, warm and close under the covers, and for those moments Dean could almost pretend that it was the genuine article wrapped around him and not the discount house brand. And as much as he wished it wasn't true, it was about the happiest Dean had been in a month.

Since that bastard left.

"You're very frustrating sometimes," un-Cas remarked out of the blue.

"_What?_" Dean asked incredulously.

"You push me away, again and again…" Irritation bled into Cas's voice. "And I keep coming back, time after time, until you tell me unequivocally that you _will not_ allow me into your life. And you have the _gall_ to blame _me_ for walking away."

Dean pushed him off and sat up in the bed. "Okay, first off, you're _not really Cas_, alright? Second of all, I left Lisa! What more do you want from me? I'm not gonna take a knee and goddamn _propose_, if that's what you're waiting for!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Cas snapped, sitting up, his eyes flashing. "I would never expect a gesture of commitment from the man who fucked me in his girlfriend's kitchen!"

_That _hit Dean like a slap across the face.

He stumbled out of the bed, unable to get away fast enough. "Thaaaat's rich," he chuckled bitterly, yanking his pants on. "That's rich. I seem to recall that you made it all possible, you hypocritical son of a bitch…"

"Dean," Cas sighed wearily. "Dean."

"What?" he snarled, spinning around to face him again.

Cas was looking at him with those big fucking blue eyes. "It's not what you think."

Dean crossed his arms and glowered. "Oh really? What am I thinking?"

"You think it was all some elaborate test that you failed," he explained, stone-faced. "And that I'm punishing you for it. You think I'm being deliberately vindictive."

Dean didn't affirm or deny.

Cas's brows knitted upwards. "It was never a test, Dean. I was as confused as you were. I only knew that I kept wanting more, and you kept holding back. And I just knew… I knew I would always want more than you were willing to give."

Something in Dean cooled and melted, and his anger rolled off him like dry ice. "But how can you know?" he whispered.

Cas looked down and away from Dean. "Experience."

And for a long minute, Dean had another silent moment where he could almost believe that the Cas in front of him was really him. But this time…

This time it was like a knife to the chest.

…..

Dean lifted a scalpel off the tray, admiring its rusted and dulled edge. Once, it had been a precision instrument, a useful tool.

It was still useful. Just in different ways.

A sequestered and impotent part of Dean raged and screamed, but there was no stopping him.

The man bound to the table was babbling incoherently, in some foreign language, and his black hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and blood. His eyes rolled wildly, white and frantic, the pupils almost swallowed by blue iris in panic.

He'd been a handsome man. Once.

Dean approached the table, and the man began to visibly tremble.

"Don't do this," he gasped in English. Surprisingly, no accent. "Please, please, stop, I'm begging you, I'll do anything – "

The corner of Dean's mouth curved upward. He held the scalpel up to the light.

The man began to sob. "Please, don't, no, no, don't please stop no stop – "

He lowered the knife towards the man's slick flesh.

The removed part of Dean vomited.

"Dean."

Dean cocked his head at the disturbance.

Suddenly, a replica of the man on the table appeared before him – only this one was fully clothed and appallingly whole.

"Stop," the man commanded.

…...

Dean woke up with a start, panting and pulse racing.

He was in a dark motel room, the same one he'd been living out of since he left Lisa's. Discounting the time he spent at Lisa's, it was probably the longest he'd stayed in any one place. That was mostly because there were no Johnny Laws to run him out of town or cute jilted girls to avoid.

A man stood at the foot of his bed, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.

"Cas," he breathed, post-dream adrenaline still coursing through his veins. It worked, somehow it had worked. He scrambled to flip on the bedside lamp. "How did you – "

Cas's face was bathed in yellow glow, displaying the grim and steely expression on his face. "You carved the address into my abdomen."

The blood drained out of Dean's face. Oh, God. The nausea returned to him in full force as his dream came flooding back to him.

"Frankly, I'm – astounded," Cas told him, eyes dark.

"Cas, I'm sorry –" Dean began hastily.

"No, I understand. A nightmare." Cas furrowed his brows. "But the level of cognizance you maintained through most of your dreams…"

He huffed a laugh. Oh. That. "I bought a book on lucid dreaming. I saw a couple psychics, couple witch doctors. Tried a little of everything."

"You have to stop," Cas ordered. "I'm going to leave here tonight, Dean, and I'm not returning. You have to stop trying to contact me."

"What? No!" Dean exclaimed. No no no no, this was going all wrong. "I've spent the last month trying to get ahold of you!"

"Then tell me what you have to say."

Dean opened his mouth, but found the words missing. "Just – Cas, I want…" He floundered for a moment. "I want you around. I'm not afraid of it anymore. I – Christ, Cas, I _need_ you."

Cas narrowed his eyes just barely, and asked with a hint of disbelief, "Why?"

He tried for something, anything, but came up speechless.

Fuck.

Cas's mouth tightened into a hard line.

Finally his brain started working again, desperation kicking him into gear. "Cas, please – give me a minute, I just woke up. At least tell me how to get in touch with you. Don't just leave." He was so close, so close and yet Cas was slipping out of his grasp. "Stay, we can talk about things, just stick around for a minute and we'll sort this out. Just please – stay."

Cas gazed at him with equal parts regret and heartbreak. The word came out quietly, but determined.

"No."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:_ Another late night writing session! _I do it all for you readers._ This chapter features more of our lead characters suffering. I feel bad because this is a romance story, and so far in this third alternate-ending-extension part there's been little in the way of actual romance. Lotsa angst and locked gazes and pain and woe, but very little boy kissing. Someday, when Dean and Cas finally get everything sorted out, I'll make it up to you. For now... well. You'll just have to deal._

_I know, I'm evil._

_For all of you who wrote me wonderful, fantabulous, much-appreciated reviews: thank you. Really, thank you. I really wanted to respond to a few of them, but Fanfiction was being a _bitch_ to me and I couldn't reply to my reviews and messages. Hopefully in the next day here the bug will get sorted out. Please, please keep reviewing, because then I will be happy little author and my happy little fingers will type happily and quickly._

_In unrelated news, here's the new chapter! I'm not sure how you guys will feel about this one, so please let me know in the reviews._

* * *

For the next few days, Dean tried not to sleep. He spent dark, quiet hours bathing in the cathode ray glow of late-night cable programming. He drank coffee and avoided beer; he set his phone to ring every half hour.

He could only think of a couple times in his life he'd felt more alone.

Damn, Dean knew that if Sam was here he'd know what to do. He'd have dug up some ancient spell for sending text messages to heaven or he'd have devised some crazy scheme where he retrofitted Enochian sigils to summon instead of banish. The kid was smart, and he had a knack for schemes and solutions.

Not that he was much of a kid anymore.

_Been._ Not that he'd _been_ much of a kid.

When he died.

Dean decided he needed a drink.

…..

It was an idea that was all kinds of crazy, which meant it had "Winchester" written all over it. (Dean tried not to get caught up in the idea that he was the last living Winchester, but it didn't escape his notice, not one fucking bit.) And honestly, he wasn't sure he had much left to lose. He and Lisa had parted on much friendlier terms than he'd expected; she wasn't an idiot, and she wasn't blind, so she'd seen it coming. But there was absolutely no going back to that, and there was no going back to where he'd been, so all that was left was the open, empty road and this dingy, empty motel room. Truckstop waitresses and pool hustling and cheap beer, as far as the eye could see.

Even heaven was better this.

So, it wasn't much of a plan, being one he concocted while beyond hammered on vodka and gin. And it was exactly the kind of gesture that betrayed how desperate and weak he really was. But goddamn it.

It worked.

He swayed a little where he sat, throwing his hand up in greeting. "Caaaaas!" he exclaimed, slurring and slow. His heart leapt at the sight of his angel, his buddy Castiel. He was trying hard to speak clearly, but it was kind of impossible at this point. "I knnnnnew you'd come! I prayed, an' I prayed, an' you caaaame!"

"What are you doing?" Cas demanded flatly. Everything was sorta swirly and dizzy, and it looked like Cas was moving but he wasn't.

"I'm. I'm. I'm watshin' the stars!" Dean explained.

"On the edge of a rooftop?"

"Oh," Dean remembered. He kicked his legs out, swinging them back and forth. "Yeah. Thinkin' 'bout jumpin'. Think I shou' do it, Caaaas?"

"This is pathetic," Cas growled.

Dean blinked several times. He tried to make Cas stay still. "Arrrre you mad at me, Cas? Sound mad."

Cas didn't answer.

Dean tried for a charming grin, but he could feel it coming out sloppy. "Aw, don' be mad at meeee. I'm so hap – happy to seeeee you. This time, you're gonna stay. You're – you're gonna stay this stay."

Cas stayed quiet, so Dean stop trying to smile at him.

He turned back to the cityscape below him, neon lights and street lamps. "You 'member Sammy, Cas?" he sighed. "I 'member him. Noooooobody else – no one in this whole fuckin' city 'members him. They di'n know 'im. But I knew 'im, knew 'im better than aaaaanybody else."

Then Dean's chest got tight, and his eyes got wet. "I miss Sammy, Cas," he choked. "I fuckin' _miss_ him. I want Sammy back. You gotta bring 'im _back_, Cas, I need him."

"You know I can't do that," Cas whispered.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, felt the dampness leak out of them and down his cheeks. His legs dangled over the edge, and his heart _hurt_. It wasn't supposed to hurt like this. "Then why don' I just jump?" he half-shouted, half-sobbed, clenching the gritty cement with his hands. "I don' know how to _live_ anymorrrre…"

And then Cas's strong hand was grabbing him by the collar and yanking him down off the balustrade, jerking him upwards as he stumbled into a standing position. Suddenly, blackness swallowed them up, and in the blink of an eye they were in Dean's motel room, Cas's hand fisted in his shirt being most of the reason he was still upright.

"You listen to me, Dean Winchester," Cas hissed, sharp and flinty. "You are _profaning_ everything Sam gave his life for by acting this way. If this is some insane bid for my attention, you will find yourself wishing I'd never raised you out of hell."

"Iss not, 'm sorry," Dean cried, his eyes still leaking. He cringed away from Cas, trying to look anywhere but those scary fierce blue eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

Cas gritted his teeth and shook Dean hard. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you think this is what Sam would want? Do you think this is what he _fought for?_"

The room spun and Dean's stomach flopped uneasily. "No sir," he mumbled, answering out of instinct more than anything. "No sir."

Cas froze for a moment.

Finally he released Dean, who promptly slumped back into him, finding himself unsteady. Cas shuffled him onto the bed, where he laid for a minute and tried to stifle the sick clawing up his throat.

Cas sat down beside him, silent.

"'Sorry, Cas," Dean apologized, already feeling mildly more sober. "I… I didn't mean it."

Cas stared evenly at him. "Yes, you did."

Dean didn't contradict him.

Suddenly Cas's hand laid gently on his arm. "I'm sorry."

Dean frowned. Just when he thought he had things straight, he was confused again. "For what?"

"For making you leave Lisa." Cas's eyes were tired and sad. "I shouldn't have asked that of you."

He exhaled heavily through his nose. "No, she… she felt it too. It wasn' right. I liked her, but I never loved her, an' she d'serves someone who loves 'er." He yawned, a deep, bone-deep fatigue settling in.

"But now you're all alone." Cas's thumb moved slowly back and forth, almost absently.

Dean's eyelids drifted downwards, feeling unbearably heavy. "Nuh-uh," he mumbled. "You came back…"

Cas didn't say anything.

Somehow, that spoke louder than any words.

Dean struggled keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle. He was slowly but surely slipping out of consciousness. "Caaas," he managed to murmur under his breath. "You gon' be here when I wake up?"

He knew what Cas's soft answer would be before it left his lips.

"No."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Guys! I procrastinated my homework for you! When I fail my classes, you guys have to start paying for tuition, okay? _

_I hope you guys like this chapter. A couple of you guys said in your reviews that you'd like to see something from Cas's point of view. Well, ask and you shall receive! _That's the power of reviews._ Anyways, this chapter marks a turning point, and though I think I could have told it all from Dean's POV just as easily, I decided to indulge you guys and give you a little angelic introspection. Please review and let me know what you think!_ It makes me so happy when you review.

* * *

Castiel sat at Dean's bedside, watching him sleep. In sleep, Dean Winchester was a thing of beauty – harsh lines on his face vanishing, sarcastic one-liners silent. It was the only time he seemed unguarded and laid bare. Vulnerable, even.

Castiel had grown to loathe it.

He loathed how innocent and honest he seemed while sleeping, how genuine and unflinching his dreams were, because it made the reality of Dean's stubborn denial that much harder to take. His subconscious betrayed his suppressed desires and lured Castiel in with sweet promises of warmth and affection. Castiel, the fool, had been taken in.

It had taken a long time, much too long, for Cas to realize the obvious: Dean was grieving. He was lost and alone. His sleeping mind was grasping at any foothold it could cling to, any semblance of human connection it could assemble. The fact that it had taken the form of Castiel was not surprising; the fact that it awoke some latent mortal weakness in him was.

He loved Dean. But he'd loved Dean too much to see beyond his own wordly emotions and realize that the man didn't love him back. He'd been blinded by hope and faith and deaf to the harsh truth.

It wasn't the first time.

Dean's lips twitched in his sleep, as though he were silently mumbling to himself. _You gon' be here when I wake up?_

Castiel wanted more than anything to stay.

He reminded himself of all the times Dean had refused to let him in, of all the times Dean's body had said yes while his mouth whispered no, of the look on Dean's face when he was asked for just one reason that he needed Castiel around and he was unable to answer. He remembered the way he hid behind a mask of cutting remarks and sharp jokes, the countless women he'd fornicated with, his insolence and arrogance and insecurity and self-loathing. He remembered all of the times Dean had failed him. He remembered all of the reasons he'd walked away.

And yet.

That one damnable sentence.

_I prayed, and you came_.

Trust and hope and joy all wrapped up in one drunken phrase.

And so, cursing himself profoundly, Castiel stepped into Dean's dreams one last time to give him a proper goodbye; and if there was any kind of justice in the world, Dean would never remember.

….

Dean and Sam stood in an empty, faded spare room at Bobby's. Both were dressed in tuxedos, hair carefully combed back and dress shoes shining. They stood in front of a full-length mirror as Sam adjusted Dean's bowtie.

"There." Sam finished, and crossed his arms. "That's as good as it's gonna get."

Dean chuckled ruefully and checked himself out in the mirror. It was almost perfectly centered. Sometimes, it paid to have an anal retentive brother. "Thanks, man."

"No problem." Sam clapped him on the shoulder, and then kept his hand there. "Hey, Dean…"

Dean turned his head towards him.

"I'm. I'm really happy for you." Sam's eyes were bright, and his nostrils flared. "Really."

Oh, c'mon, that was _not_ allowed to start happening yet. "Hey," Dean chided, "save it for the speech." He punched Sam lightly in the shoulder. "You gotta keep all the gooey chick flick you've been savin' up inside for just a little longer."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean surveyed himself again in the mirror. He shot himself a cheeky smirk, but goddamnit he couldn't keep a slight tremor out of his damn hands.

Sam gave a lopsided smile, a dimple in one cheek. "You know, I can't believe you of all people beat me to the altar."

Dean grinned, appreciating Sam's artful ability to distract him from the most nervewracking thing he'd ever done. "Yeah, me neither. What can I say, I'm a catch."

They exchanged a few more brotherly jibes, and then Sam left to finish getting ready himself. Dean returned to the mirror, smoothing his cummerbund and muttering at his hair.

_Can't believe I'm doing this, it's actually happening, today's the day... freakin' cowlick... _

Then Cas appeared behind him in the mirror. _  
_

"Dude!" He spun around, incredulous. "What are you doing?"

Cas froze, looking like a deer in the headlights. "How… do you mean?" he asked tentatively. Chrissakes, he was still in that damn ugly _trenchcoat_, his hair mussed like he'd been through a windstorm, and his tie askew. And he _didn't get what Dean was talking about_.

"Where's your tux?" Dean demanded. "This show gets on the road in a half hour, Cas. And I put on a monkey suit and everything!"

Cas looked confused, but didn't say anything. He looked almost... sad.

Suddenly, a bolt of ice cold terror shot through Dean.

_Oh, Jesus, let it not be what I think it is. _

"Cas." Dean gripped him by the shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. "Talk to me, man. You're not… you're not getting cold feet, are you?"

"My feet are... fine," Cas responded, looking even more baffled. "I'm wearing shoes."

Typical, so frigging typical. It was just Cas being is usual clueless self. Dean laughed and rested his forehead on Cas's, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily. "Thank God. For a second there… You had me scared, Cas. The look on your face…" Gently he kissed the bridge of Cas's nose, and put his arms around him. "For a second, I had this thought that you were gonna call it off."

Cas went rigid in his arms.

"Dean," he rasped, "wait."

Dean pulled back a little to look into his face, frowning. "What?"

"Why." Cas's brows were knitted upwards, his eyes wide and anxious. "Why?"

He arched one eyebrow. "Why did I think that?"

"Why do you… " Cas swallowed thickly. "Why are you marrying me?"

Dean felt his cheeks grow hot, and he ducked his head into Cas's warm neck. "C'mon, dude," he muttered, kissing lightly along his collar. "You know I'm no good with words."

"Try," Cas commanded hoarsely.

Dean didn't miss that note of urgency that bled into his voice. Cas was asking him honestly and seriously; he had to be wigging out the same as Dean, and it was up to Dean to reassure him, no matter how fucking dumb he might sound doing it. He tightened his arms around Cas, and moved his lips up towards Cas's ear. "'Cause I love you," he mumbled. "And I don't want anyone else to have you. And I want you for me, forever, for as long as you'll put up with me, because…" His lips briefly pressed to Cas. "Living without you seems damn fucking miserable."

Cas imperceptibly melted into him, and Dean felt him breathe in deeply. Like it was exactly what he'd needed to hear.

Mission accomplished.

"Oh, and lifetime supply of angel sex," Dean added, nipping at Cas's ear. He just couldn't resist being a smartass. "In fact, it's mostly the sex." And then he pulled back just enough to leer at Castiel. "We've got half an hour. Wanna…" He started to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but trailed off.

Cas's eyes were shiny and big, and he looked like –

Frankly, he looked like Bobby did when he stood up from his wheelchair.

"You, uh..." Dean licked his lips and squinted. "You gonna tell me what that was about?"

With a hint of a smile at his lips, Cas removed Dean's arms from around him, and answered.

"No."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _And this is the laaaaast chapter. It's shorter than the rest, I know, but... this is where the story ends. And trust me, I've learned my lesson about messing with endings. I hope you enjoy it, as I much prefer it to my original ending, even though it may even be a mite fluffier. I thank you all for your wonderful, generous, extremely happy-making reviews; I really do appreciate each and every one. _

_Now, I really do have to go; this has been an adventure, and I'm super grateful that you all came along for the ride. Good night, and good luck. _

* * *

Dean woke up to the insistent throbbing of his head, feeling every inch of the worst hangover he'd had in months. What the hell had he…

Oh.

Shiiiiit.

Dean groaned into his pillow and wished he was still drunk. The mortification of the little stunt he'd pulled was almost worse than the god-awful sensation in his stomach. His one chance at fixing things with Cas, and he'd blown it by turning into some friggin' emo crybaby…

"Take these."

Dean froze.

No, no way, it couldn't be… he'd even said…

He lifted his head, and looked to the side of the bed.

Sure enough, Cas was sitting there, offering a bottle of aspirin.

Carefully Dean rolled over and sat up, taking the bottle from Cas. "Thanks." He rubbed his temple, trying to massage away the ache.

Cas sat and watched him.

Finally Dean broke the silence again. "So… uh… you're. Here?" he ventured weakly.

Cas's eyes flickered downward, and then he looked up again. "You asked me to stay."

_Yeah, but why _did_ you_? Thank God Dean was smart enough not to voice that question out loud.

Suddenly Cas peered at him, and leaned forward in his chair. "Dean, I think I – if you want, I could – " And he extended two fingers towards him.

Dean nodded slowly and scooted to the edge of the bed. "Uh. Sure."

With a single press of his fingertips, the hangover vanished completely. More than that; Dean felt like a hundred and ten percent, like the best health of his life, like a new man.

Or maybe that was just his proximity to the angel who had been eluding him for the better part of a month.

Cas, for his part, seemed different than he had last night. Granted, Dean had been drunk, but Cas had been _pissed_. Something had changed between then and now, maybe something Dean couldn't remember… but something between them had shifted, and now Cas's stares weren't filled with pain and disappointment and regret. Now, when Cas gazed at him – Dean got the feeling like Cas knew something Dean didn't, and he was just watching, waiting for him to clue in.

Dean, the clueless one? Yeah. Right.

Cas pulled back his hand, but he didn't sit back in his chair. He just watched Dean with those knowing, expectant blue eyes.

"Cas…" Dean sighed, and he rubbed his jaw. "Look, man, I owe you an apology. I know it wasn't fair to you, the way I... But you gotta understand, Sam was the smart one of the two of us, okay?" He swallowed against the hard lump in his throat. "I've never been the… brightest crayon in the box… especially when it comes to." He gestured between them. "You know. This stuff."

Cas lip quirked upward. "Dean. I'm not even human. I'm hardly an expert on emotions, either."

Dean laughed and scratched the back of his head. "Man, we are a relationship counselor's _dream_, you know that?"

Cas tilted his head slightly, and hesitated. "Dean."

Dean waited.

"I _want_ to be in relationship with you," Cas began warily, low and quiet. "I _want_ to be with you. But – I love you, Dean, and I don't want to have to pretend otherwise."

Dean was dumbstruck.

His heart flip-flopped painfully like a landed trout.

His breath stuck sharp in his throat.

His mouth went dry.

"So if you're going to maintain that what we have between us is purely physical," Cas continued, his eyes darkening, "I cannot – I_ will_ not stay."

Dean tried for words, and they didn't happen.

It was imperative that he not fucking blow this.

So, he could hardly be faulted when he grabbed Cas by the shoulders and kissed him like his life depended on it. Because in a way, it kind of did.

Finally, Dean managed to break away for a moment and gasp, "You can stay, Cas, you can stay." Then it was back to warm lips and teasing tongues and grasping hands and oh, Jesus Christ, so damn fantastic, breathless groans and racing pulses and too much clothes, way too much clothes on.

It wasn't for another few minutes that another thought occurred to him. As he yanked the shirt down Cas's shoulders, he panted, "What about heaven?"

"They'll manage," Cas breathed, unbuttoning Dean's jeans. "They'll fucking manage."

…..

And an hour later, when they nestled in comfortable silence and Dean had a moment to process everything, a terrible possibility occurred to him.

"Cas," he uttered. "I'm not –" Christ, he almost didn't even want to know.

Cas craned his head up to look at him. "What?"

"I'm not… dreaming, am I?" Dean croaked.

Cas smiled, a soft chuckle reverberating through his chest and into Dean.

"No."


End file.
